


Kiss Kiss Fall in Love Again

by nikolaithepastelgoth



Series: SCP-113 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Character, Demiboy Character, F/M, Genderbending, Projecting? Don't even know her, SCP-113, no beta we die like davie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29854152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikolaithepastelgoth/pseuds/nikolaithepastelgoth
Summary: The first of the nations tonight to get changed by SCP-113 because I don't know how to write things in order
Relationships: Male Hungary/Czech Republic (Hetalia)
Series: SCP-113 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148699
Kudos: 1





	Kiss Kiss Fall in Love Again

Hungary had been growing more distant the past year. For the first few months, Czechia never brought it up, thinking Hungary would tell her in her own time. As time went on, Czechia got nervous, thinking Hungary was cheating on her. Czechia found herself overanalyzing every greeting and kiss, every touch, every word she said to someone else.

Was it with Prussia? Romania? Hungary said she was a lesbian, or well, she never said "lesbian" per say. She'd just say she only liked girls, letting others fill in the blanks about her sexuality.

But maybe she was bi. Czechia was, and she remembered how Bulgaria said before he thought he was gay for a while, only to realize later he was bi. The same had gone for Austria, and Belarus.

Czechia's heart clenched everytime she saw Hungary talk to someone else, laugh at something they said, leaned in for a hug or to kiss them on the cheek.

Until finally she just felt tired, until it felt like they were only sharing the hotel room, because that's what a couple did—or sisters, if you asked that dense concierge woman that checked them in.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Czechia announced, and Hungary barely acknowledged the statement as she typed away on her laptop, sitting up in their bed.

Frowning, Czechia grabbed her phone and went into the bathroom, turning on her Spotify after closing the door. Within the first month of them dating, Hungary would have joined her. If not at the start, then she would surprise her partway through the shower. Czechia had given up on that happening anymore.

She'd heard of lesbian bed death, and she'd joked at the start that since she was bi, that curse would pass them over. Hungary had laughed, if it was a bit strained, and Czechia thought about that now. She thought alot about things now, analyzing and wondering.

Girl In Red started playing, and Czechia turned the volume up and turned on the water. She folded her clothes after undressing and took her black hair out of the little half-bun she wore on the side of her head. She dropped the Bobby pins in a small cup on the counter and stepped into the shower spray, sighing at the feel of hot water beating against her pale skin.

Girl In Red switched to Red Velvet then Hayley Kiyoko to Black Pink to Left at London. She thought she heard music playing in the other room, thinking it sounded like Cavetown, but she couldn't make it out over her music.

In bed, Hungary was, indeed listening to Cavetown, pillows propped up behind him so he could sit up while messaging France and scrolling through r/comingout and r/egg_irl.

France: If you’re a coward, then I guess I am.

Hungary: I’ll be nice and ignore the obvious joke you just walked yourself into.

France: Oh, funny. Very funny. You’ve absorbed some of Angleterre’s and America’s humour, it seems.

Hungary: America’s mostly. We hung out after he returned that crown to me back in the 1970s.

France: I feel you’re veering the conversation on purpose.

Hungary: I guess.

France didn’t respond, and Hungary finished reading someone’s post about coming out to their partner as nonbinary before clicking back onto Discord.

Hungary: Did you tell Ludwig?

France: Right before we left for our flight. As in, in the Berlin airport. Prussia was there too, giving us space, but followed after me.

Hungary: Oh, it didn’t go well?

France: It started out as a fight, and I blurted it out. I really suggest talking to Czechia before reaching that point.

Hungary: I’ll make sure to talk to her. I keep almost blurting it out as it is. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it down, in all honesty. Do you want to talk about you and Ludwig? Do I need me to slap him around?

France: I think Prussia will take exception to that.

Hungary: Fuck Prussia.

France: Spain owes me €50.

Hungary: Cute. Now who’s veering the conversation?

France: You’ve caught me, and no, I’m a bit too tired. I still feel emotionally raw tearing open my heart in front of Prussia.

Hungary: Understandable. Get some rest, then. Treat yourself, too. On Ludwig’s dime if you still have his card numbers.

France sent a gif of a TV character laughing that Hungary didn’t recognize. She then told Hungary that she was going to log off, unless Hungary still had more he wanted to get off of his chest.

Hungary: I mean, of course, but my doctor said no.

France: I’d be willing to take them ;)

Hungary: Lol, and otherwise, I can’t think of anything except just rewording what I’ve already said. I wish I could be more like Elias, but… at the same time, I think it would just remind me more constantly about… yeah.

France: No, I understand. I keep going back and forth on the issue, because I fear the same thing. So much, I’ve tried to go in the opposite direction, let my moustache grow, cut my hair. But I’ve been miserable for so long, maybe doing what I’m scared of… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be miserable still, but maybe I’ll be happy. This is that situation where the two hallways, one lit up and one dark, well, I know what’s at the end of the lit hallway. The brightness lets me see it clearly. There’s comfort in that, even if that thing waiting is misery and self-loathing.

Hungary: That makes sense. I still don’t know.

France: It’s up to you, Aliz. You’ve told me, and you’ve told Turkey and Austria. I think you *should* tell Czechia, and I know you think so, too.

Hungary: It’s harder…

France: You were about to divorce from Austria when you told him, and he’d already figured it out by then, despite his usual obliviousness to everything around him. It was similar with Turkey. You’d been out of his care for many years, and he’d already figured it out. You weren’t scared of losing them. You’re scared of losing Czechia, but I’m telling you this now: She loves you, and you’ve been letting her slip from her. If you don’t stop and tell her, what you fear will happen anyway.

Hungary: You’re insufferable when you’re right.

France: I know ;)

Hungary: Now get some rest

France: Same for you. You’re insufferable when you get less than 10 hours of sleep.

Hungary: Shut up. Good night, Marianne.

France: Good night, Aliz <3

Hungary looked up as the bathroom door opened, steam rolling out as Czechia came out, wrapped in one of the hotel’s white fluffy towels, a smaller one on her head to keep her hair from dripping. Her expression was blank, and Hungary felt his confession get stuck in his throat again. When Czechia noticed him staring at her, hope filled her grey-purple eyes, dashed when Hungary chickened out yet again and said he was going to take a shower now.

He set his laptop aside and grabbed his phone, now playing a song by Ryan Cassata.

When in the bathroom, he leaned against the door, sinking down until he was sitting on the tile. His brown hair, cut just below his shoulders, fell around his face as he stared at the ground, face scrunching up in anger and misery when the view was partially obstructed by his breasts.

34D according to the saleslady when Czechia took Hungary to get a replacement when his old bra finally tore beyond repair. He’d said he could just wear his sports bra, the closest to binding he could bring himself to get, but Czechia had insisted on him having “proper support.”

Tears rolled down Hungary’s cheeks, and he wiped at them so hard, it felt like he’d just punched himself in the face.

After a while, when his Spotify switched to the next song, another one by Ryan Cassata, Hungary realized Czechia would notice the water wasn’t running, so he forced himself up, kicking his phone away from the puddles around the tub. He turned on the shower, the water heating up quickly. He faced away from the mirror and swallowed, throat feeling like there was a rock in it when he finally got around to pulling off his knitted pullover sweater and shirt. He unhooked his bra and let it fall, stopping himself at the last moment from tossing it into the trash can.

He turned off the light before stepping into the tub, not caring that he couldn’t see, not caring if he slipped. What was going to happen? It wasn’t like he could die, anyway, and he really just could not stand seeing his body. It was bad enough he was going to have to feel it as he washed himself.

Just thinking about it, hands clasped over his stomach, made Hungary start getting angry all over again as he started to tremble under the hot spray.

In the room, Czechia buttoned her polkadot pajama top and pulled on her matching shorts all the while staring at Hungary’s laptop. She debated herself for what felt like an hour, finally diving for the device right before it went to sleep. Hungary had never told her her password, and Czechia had never asked, never having resorted to trying to snoop through her things, even at her most paranoid, thinking Hungary was cheating on her with almost anyone she talked to besides her.

On the screen was a Discord conversation with sausagesimp, and it didn’t take long for Czechia to surmise that this was France, until she noticed the last messages.

flowercrowns dont make me a soft boi: Good night, Marianne.

sausagesimp: Good night, Aliz <3

That wasn’t Hungary’s Discord name. Czechia clicked on the user settings, recognizing the icon, which was Fritz Teufel from  _ Macskafogó _ , edited so he wore a flower crown and seemed to be holding an iced coffee. The email used the name Aliz Héderváry, and Czechia clicked on a server Hungary was in and then clicked on her name to see the roles.

Adult, photo editor, polyglot, dark topics ok, he/him, they/them.

Czechia stared at the pronouns. She thought about how uncomfortable Hungary had been in that lingerie store. She thought about Hungary telling her, “No, I’m a touch-me-not. I just want to make you feel good.” When Czech would try to reciprocate sex. She thought about the way Hungary had smiled when bundled under coats, scarves, and a hat, and someone said, “Excuse me, young man.” After bumping into them.

At the time, Czechia had thought Hungary just thought it was funny. They’d laughed when Czechia said that they didn’t look anything like a guy, but now she wondered if he’d been hiding his pain.

Frowning and chest aching as she wondered about the ways she’s inadvertently hurt her partner while also angry at why they hadn’t just told her, why they made her this crazy and jealous, thinking they were cheating instead, Czechia clicked on the Firefox icon, bringing up r/comingout. It looked like Hungary had been reading a story about a nonbinary person coming out to eir wife. She scrolled down, seeing that Hungary had started to comment.

He’d written “I’m so sorry she reacted that way. I’ve been trying to work up to telling my gf. I keep chickening out”

That was all there was, and a Discord alert popped up in the bottom right corner of the laptop screen, from Austria. “Did you tell Miss Czechia? I know I told you to wait until after the meeting, but after the fight between Marianne and Ludwig, I think telling her sooner may be the better option.”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON MY LAPTOP?!”

Jumping back and nearly knocking the laptop onto the ground, Czechia looked up with wide eyes at Hungary, whose blow-dried hair was tied back in a low bun. They wore an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, and Czechia babbled, face red as she tried to grasp at words to make this sound more innocent than it actually was.

What came out instead, though, was, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU’RE A MAN?!”

Hungary turned completely pale and froze, and it was so quiet, Czechia could hear the “Oh, shit,” and her heart fell through her stomach.

“Er—” Czechia choked on the name, not wanting to spit it out and potentially hurt Hungary more, but he was already turning around, yanking his jacket and wallet out of the closet so hard that he made a bunch of other clothes as well as the extra blankets fall to the floor.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Hungary muttered, stuffing his phone into his pocket as it still played music, this time Against Me! But muffled at the bottom of his pocket.

The door slammed, and Czechia fell to her hands and knees, hot tears rolling down her red cheeks. Her arms shook as her chest ached, her nails digging into the mattress so hard that two of them broke, making her curse and get angry and sad all over again. She started punching the mattress and pillows, cursing in Czech, Solvakian, German, Russian, and Hungarian. The words slowly got more choked out as she kept going, huffing as the repeated punching started to tire her out until all she could do was roll over and curl up, back against the headboard as she sobbed.

Outside, Hungary held the box of Rothmans to his mouth, pushing one of the cigarettes up with his thumb until it was between his lips. After lighting it,he pulledout his phone and turned off Spotify, swearing around smoke when he saw the battery was at twelve percent.

He found the nearest bar and smoked outside, a few others nearby, chatting and smoking, a few with drinks in their hands. Hungary was hurt and unsurprised to see Czechia hadn’t texted or called, and he scrolled through his contacts until he found Austria’s name.

It didn’t take long before he answered. “If you’re calling instead of simply messaging me back, I guess I can assume it didn’t go well. Would you like me to speak to her?”

Hungary shook their head before remembering Austria couldn’t see. They blew out a line of smoke. “Didn’t see your message, but no. She was looking through my laptop. And… no? Maybe? I dunno. I’m out at a bar right now.”

“I’ll send Feliciano to join you.”

It wasn’t a question. Austria had seen Hungary drunk.

“Fine,” Hungary said after a while.

Austria confirmed which hotel Hungary and Czechia were staying in and their room number. He then asked which bar Hungary was at, and they turned around to read the name above the door. They tried looking around to see the street name when Austria said he’d already found it and sent Italy the address.

“He should be there in twenty minutes,” Austria informed. It sounded like he was typing while talking. “Apparently he’s shopping with Belgium and Poland in Manhattan.”

“I don’t want this to be a party,” Hungary growled after blowing out a line of smoke.

“He promises he didn’t say anything to them. He said only that Lovino and Mr. Japan had a tiff, so he’ll be keeping him company. He’s likely already texted Lovino to cover for him.”

“Fine.” Hungary finished their cigarette and dropped it to the sidewalk, grinding it into the concrete with the heel of their slip-ons. “I’ll try not to be blacked out before then.”

“Please.” Austria sighed. “Italy will need to call someone else to help. Do you really want anyone else seeing you in that state? Asking what drove you there?”

“... No.” Hungary crossed one arm over his chest, then dropped it when he felt his breasts, free under his hoodie, since there hadn’t been reason for him to put a bra back on after getting out of the shower. “Fine. I’ll pace myself.”

“Good. And Aliz?”

“Hmm?”

“Everything will be okay.”

“Whatever.” Hungary hung up as his phone beeped, letting him know it was under ten percent now. He shoved the phone into his pocket, checking the other and sighing in relief when he found his wallet.

Inside the bar, Hungary first noticed the flags along the walls, then the flags worn by some of the patrons. A drag queen sang karaoke on stage, her outfit looking like it was inspired by Vaporeon. Her wig added several inches to her already towering height, and Hungary could make out her make-up from the entrance. She had a good voice, though, and Hungary already felt a bit of anger melt away, before he suddenly realized this was the LGBTQ+ bar Czechia had mentioned to him a few nights ago, when she was looking at things to do while they were here.

“Hey!”

Hungary looked over at a table set up by the entrance and stepped closer, so they were out of the way of others trying to leave or enter the bar. The human manning the table had an undercut, the shaved part dyed rainbow colors while the rest was dyed bright pink, like they’d used a highlighter.

“Want a pin?” they asked, smiling as they leaned forward, elbows on the table and chin resting atop their hands. Their dark eyes were large behind their octagon-shaped glasses, and the glitter on their round face flashed with the lights from the dance floor. “I made them myself!”

Hungary noticed the “they/them” pin the human was wearing, the words overtop a genderqueer flag.

“They’re free, but if you wanna leave a donation, it’s really appreciated!” They had to talk loud to be heard over the booming music, and Hungary smiled and nodded, searching over the buttons laid out over the table. He soon found the ones with the demiboy flags, some with “he/him” others with “he/they” some with “he/ze” and some with “they/them.”

“Sorry if you use pronouns I don’t have available.” The human looked apologetic. But if that’s the case, I have a few blanks here for you to write them on with Sharpie.”

“That’s okay.” Hungary picked up one of the “he/they” pins and took a fiver out of his wallet, sticking it into the large owl mug being used as a tip jar. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you! Have a great night!”

“Thank you, I think I will,” said Hungary, putting on the pin and heading towards the bar as two other people went to the table to look over the pins.

Czechia started to doze off, clutching a pillow to her chest when someone knocked on the door.

Thinking it was Hungary and that he forgot his card, Czechia bounded for the door, almost dripping over the dropped clothes.

“Hun—” Czechia blinked. “Roderich?”

She had no choice but to step aside as Austria invited himself in, slipping his phone into the pocket of his long coat. He went straight to the hotel phone, pulling out the small menu binder and flipping through it as he asked Czechia if she’d eaten already.

Letting go of the door and letting it click shut, Czechia said nothing and plopped face-first onto the bed, too tired to kick Austria out of the room. He was stubborn as a mule, anyway. The best course of action was to just ignore him and wait until he left on his own.

“I’ll order you something light,” Austria said after a while when Czechia didn’t say anything. “Strong black tea as well, and I’ll specify a bit of lemon juice added, as you usually take it.”

Czechia still said nothing.

“I’ll have a coffee for myself, and I’ve neglected to have dinner, so I should order… ah, this sirloin with fondant potatoes sounds good, and a pecan pie for dessert. America’s made them well, but do not tell him I’ve ever praised any of his dishes.”

He didn’t wait for a response before picking up the phone, Czechia glaring at him, knowing he was ordering on  _ her _ dime, not his own. Cheap bastard.

After hanging up, he said the food would be up within about a half-hour and sat in the chair in front of the desk across from the bed. He took out his phone again and started scrolled as he moved onto talking about mundane topics, starting with his flight and how he’d been unable to sleep, so he’d listened to a podcast that Prussia had been pestering him about. It was DnD-based, and while Austria had enjoyed the character creations and world-building, he hadn’t understood a lot of the jokes and references and referred to alot of the humor as childish. He then started talking about the drinks and the dinner he had with Spain earlier tonight, saying they’d seen America and Belarus having dinner together. He smiled when he noticed that had caught Czechia’s attention, and she glared as he went back to scrolling through his phone, still talking.

It felt like hours of listening to Austria talking at length about his latest crochet project before someone knocked at the door, Austria slipping his phone into his pocket and going to answer. The waiter pushed in the rolling tray, waving away Austria when he offered to help put it all onto the desk, which he’d already cleared of Czechia’s laptop and drawing tablet as well as her and Hungary’s notes for the meeting.

When the waiter was gone, Austria brought the tea to the end table as well as a bowl of mixed berries topped with whipped cream and a sprig of mint, as well as a cup of lava cake, Czechia frowning as she stared at it. Austria knew damn well how much she loved chocolate.

He became quiet as he started to eat, and after a while, Czechia couldn’t stand the smell of the lava cake anymore and finally got up to take a bite, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the bed.

Silence stretched for a while, the two just eating before Austria finally started talking again. 

“Aliz is doing alright.”

Czechia paused for a bit before bringing the cup of tea to her lips. Aliz. Hungary.

“Feliciano is joining him to keep him company.”

“And I get you,” Czechia grumbled. “Joy.”

“I will take the compliment despite your tone.” Austria started on his potatoes. “What drove you to look through his things?”

Czechia flinched, even though Austria’s tone wasnt’ accusatory.

“I don’t know…” She sipped the tea and set it down. “I thought… I kept thinking that may sh—they were cheating. We’ve been drifting apart for so long… I was scared, paranoid. And stupid, apparently.”

“A stupid action, yes, and utterly selfish.” Austria ignored her glare. “But an understandable fear. Aliz waited too long to tell you. I’ve been telling them to tell you for some time now.”

“How long have  _ you _ known?” Czechia tried not to sound bitter, but she was too tired to hide her emotions. Her eyes still hurt from all the crying, and she rubbed them before taking another bite of cake.

“Since a while before our divorce,” answered Austria. “I’d suspected for a while before that and prompted him into telling me. Turkey knows as well. Having raised Hungary for a good number of years of his childhood, Turkey had picked up on some things and straight-out asked him one day when they went out together for a drink.”

Czechia felt denser than ever that Austria had managed to figure it out when she hadn’t had a clue.

“You were in love,” Austria said, and she looked over at him, wondering if she’d accidentally said her thoughts out loud. “You were too close to see more of the picture. In my case, however, I was never in love with him, nor was he ever in love with me. Our marriage was only for politics, and while we’re close friends, that is it. I can see why you doubted that, however, due to my preference for brunettes with green eyes.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, smiling when Czechia finally laughed.

“I suggest just listening,” Austria said, pushing away his plate, which still had potatoes and a few bites of steak on it, so he could start eating dessert. “When Aliz returns. Let them talk, rant, even yell. I’m not sure what was said between the two of you before they stormed out, but they’re hurt. You were blindsided by this information, but from their perspective, it’s something he’s struggled with for years. I’m sure Italy will try to get him to look at things through your perspective also, and for now, feel free to rant yourself. I’ve already talked enough and wouldn’t mind remaining silent, so I can enjoy my coffee and pecan pie.”

Poking at her cake with the small spoon, Czechia drew in a deep breath, held it until her lungs ached, and let it go.

“Okay,” she said, when Austria remained silent as promised. “Looking back, I can see clues, but… I don’t know, I guess I just discarded it. Erez—Aliz has always seemed just so self-assured and confident. I guess… I guess I figured if there was anything he’d questioned about his identity, he’s already, like, figured it all out and was presenting how he wanted.”

Austria only nodded and took a sip of his coffee before adding a cube of sugar.

“I shouldn’t have just…” Czechia’s earlier words rang in her head, and she blinked quickly, feeling tears well up again, but her pride refused to let her cry in front of Austria of all people. “I got defensive when he caught me looking through his laptop. I didn’t think, just yelled and stomped my feet, and… I think I ruined everything.”

At the bar, Hungary received a text from Italy as his phone dropped down to five percent, his screen dimming to go into battery save mode. Italy was running late due to traffic, and Hungary assured he wasn’t drunk (yet) and that he was feeling a little better.

Italy sent back a thumbs-up and a sparkling heart, and Hungary snorted and smiled a bit before slipping his phone back into his jacket pocket. He drained the rest of his beer and pushed the glass forward for a refill, which the bartender got for him right after handing a guy in thigh-high stiletto boots and a crop top hoodie an island-looking drink Hungary thought Czech would love.

That thought soured his mood all at once, and he drained his next beer in only a few gulps before getting up to use the bathroom.

He stopped at the beginning of the short hallway near the back of the bar, looking from the mens room to the womens. Finally, he looked as someone left a third bathroom, labeled as unisex, and Hungary hurried into that one, bladder close to leaking into his underwear.

The bathroom was a single stall, a bit of puke from someone who must have drunk too much next to the toilet. 

He hovered to relieve himself, and when he started washing his hands, he noticed something red out of the corner of his eye. 

Next to the small glass bowl holding potpourri, was a fist-sized red stone with stripes of orange-tan, and it glowed!

Brow furrowed, Hungary found himself reaching for it, cursing soon as he touched it, the rock burning him, but when he tried to yank his hand back, he couldn't, and a wave of heat and electric-like energy flowed through their body.

"What the—" Hungary swallowed and kept their lips pressed together tightly, not wanting to throw up his beer into the sink.

He was doubled over, having to lean against the counter with his free arm to stay upright as the energy pulsed around his hips and thighs.

He cursed again as he heard and felt bone crack, his hips pushing inwards as his waist filled out, emphasizing his 6 pack. His thighs slimmed, making his legs look even muscular, especially as his muscles bulked up more as the changes progressed. His feet grew,, toes squished uncomfortably in his slip on, Hungary barely managing to get them off without falling over. His shoulders broadened, filling out Hungary's hoodie. The body hair he'd shaved grew back, thicker, darker, and coarser. It grew over his chest, making a V down to his happy trail, which disappeared into the band of his sweatpants.

His chest grew in mass at the same time his breath shrank, until they were firm pecs. His neck thickened, his voice coming out deeper when he cussed again, and an Adam's apple pushed against his skin. His jaw turned square as his hairline retreated slightly, chestnut brown hair falling into the stained sink as the frame of his strong face changed. His nose grew slightly, the bump in the bridge becoming more pronounced as his browbone lowered a bit, eyebrows becoming bushier. His jaw and neck itched as hair started to poke through, giving him a five o clock shadow.

The electricity-like feeling pooled between his legs, and he grunted and cussed at the feeling of something pulling and expanding.

A bulge formed in Hungary's pants, his first thought being he shouldn't have worn sweatpants. 

Then, suddenly, it was all over, and Hungary fell to the ground, gasping as the red glow disappeared, the stone with it.

Hungary, feeling like the world was moving in slow motion, stood up and stared at the man staring back at him.

Slowly, he brought his hand to his cheek, feeling the rough stubble, then his Adam's apple as he ran his fingers down his throat. He then moved sideways and pulled his hoodie so it was tight over his front, and his emerald eyes prickled with tears at the sight of his flat chest.

He was about to pull his jacket and hoodie off when someone knocked on the door, and Hungary let out a nervous, "Just a moment." And smiled wide at the timbre of his voice, the way he felt it in his chest and how it vibrated in his throat.

"Hurry up, my dude," said the person outside, sounding sick.

Hungary pulled his hoodie up so it shadowed his face. Most people at the club wouldn't notice anything amiss, but the bartender that had been serving and flirting with him for the past half hour might. He left the restroom, forgetting about his shoes and almost knocking into the sick human as they rushed into the bathroom.

Hungary only slowed to take out his wallet, leaving enough bills to cover his tab as well as a healthy tip when the bartenders were turned around.

He flinched, thinking he'd heard his deadname, but he was sure he was mistaken and rushed out of the bar, cursing when gravel dug into his feet soon as he reached the sidewalk outside. 

Halfway down the street, Hungary felt a sharp tug at their jacket and whirled around, almost about to tell the person to fuck off when they realized it was Italy.

His golden-brown eyes were wide as his mouth hung agape, and Hungary started to sputter out an excuse when Italy exclaimed, “You’ve gotten taller!”

Hungary broke out into a wide smile, chuckling. It was just like Italy to that of all changes first.

“It’s kinda loud in the bar,” he said. “Wanna go to a café for a bit instead? There’s a nice one I passed on my way here.”

Hungary lifted one of his bare feet, pointing at it. “They might complain.”

“Oh, no!” Italy looked worried, setting down one of his shopping bags to dig through the other hanging from his arms. “Your feet must be cold, it’s freezing!”

Hungary wouldn’t exactly call it freezing, but Italy had never been good with cold, and New York City was pretty windy, the wind threatening to knock down Hungary’s hood.

Italy smiled. “Ah-ha!” He pulled out a pair of plush socks, handing them to Hungary before pulling out a shoe box.

Pulling apart the sock package, Hungary commented, “I don’t think your shoes would fit me.”

“I know.” Italy pulled out a shoe and held it next to one of Hungary’s feet. “I think you might be a size ten, but I’ll get a ten-and-a-half just in case. Wait here and watch my things, please. I’ll be right back.”

“I—”

But Italy was already halfway down the street, fast as ever, like someone was chasing him.

Sighing, Hungary leaned against the wall to put on the socks, feeling better soon as he was done. The concrete  _ had _ been cold, and the socks helped keep the little rocks and cracks in the concrete from cutting into his feet so much. They then picked up Italy’s bags and stepped back to stay out of people’s way before pulling out his phone.

Still no text or call from Czechia, but there was a text from Austria, telling them that he was talking to her. Hungary started to reply when their phone died, and they groaned and stuffed it back into their jacket pocket.

People walked, jogged, or stumbled past, Hungary watching them as they waited, arms crossed over their chest. His hands started to feel cold, and he wondered where the hell Italy was when the shorter man finally returned, holding up a shoebox and knitted beanie topped with cat ears, and the beanie was colored like the trans flag, again making Hungary smile. They wondered for a moment how Italy knew, then remembered they were still wearing that demiboy flag pin he’d gotten from the gay bar.

Hungary thanked Italy as they pulled down their hood to pull on the hat, first combing their hair back from their face with their fingers. Italy took the black combat boots they’d bought out of the box and set them down, Hungary slipping his feet into them. They were a bit roomy but not by too much, though he was sure it was how thick the socks were that took up so much room.

“Good?” Italy beamed when Hungary nodded, and he slid the empty box into one of the shopping bags and picked them up again. “Let’s go!”

He started skipping down the sidewalk before Hungary could respond, so they just followed, hands in their pockets.

The café only had a few customers inside it, two of them looking like writer-wannabe hipsters, one wearing the large glasses and an actual fedora as they typed on their laptop, Hungary rolling their eyes when they saw the “Mens Rights Activist” and “Facts Don’t Care About Your Feelings” stickers.

Italy asked Hungary if they still liked affogato al cafees, and Hungary joked that it wouldn’t be as good as one he made. They said they still liked them, though, but that they also needed something to eat. They weren’t sure what that rock had been, but along with making their dream come true, it had also left them feeling like they were starving. Though them picking at their dinner tonight and not eating on the plane ride here didn’t help.

Italy ordered while Hungary found them a table away from the other customers. They didn’t have to wait for long before Italy returned with three plates, handing Hungary a croissant with cream cheese, capers, red onions, and smoked salmon. He also gave them the plate of fries, with a cup of ketchup on the side. Italy got an eclair for himself and left again, bringing back a plain black coffee for Hungary and a dark coffee topped with cream in a glass mug.

“I told him to make your affogato when you’re done eating,” Italy told him after bringing back a small pitcher of cream, which Hungary reached for to add to his coffee after tasting it. “So the gelato doesn’t melt.”

“Thanks,” Hungary said in a small voice, lifting the croissant sandwich and starting with that.

Italy chatted between bites and sips, making small talk about the dishes he’s been trying out at the restaurant he worked at during breaks in his government work. Most of them took up various odd jobs here and there. They had tons of time to move from one hobby or interest to the next, though Italy rarely strayed from cooking. He’d probably own his own restaurant if he wasn’t a country representative.

He talked about some of the stores he visited today with Poland and Belgium, mentioning that they should visit one of the suit stores he’d seen tomorrow morning when it opened.

“They won’t be able to alter it in time for the meeting, but you’ll have something that fits better.” Italy finished his eclair and picked up Hungary’s empty plates.

Hungary slumped in his chair a bit and sipped his coffee. He hadn’t thought about clothing. If his hoodie and jacket was this tight around his shoulders, there was no way his button-ups and custom suit would fit anymore. His shoes weren’t going to fit, either, and now that he was thinking about it, wearing panties was  _ super _ uncomfortable. He was going to need boxers and better-fitting shirts. A whole new wardrobe.

A new passport. He swore under his breath, realizing he was going to have to call his boss to explain, so a new passport could be mailed to him ASAP. At least he wouldn’t have to worry too much about trying to find an explanation for his boss. Even they didn’t know much about where country personifications had come from, let alone how their bodies worked, like why some scars lasted while others disappeared days after they got hurt. Hungary was sure his boss would complain about being inconvenienced but otherwise wouldn’t question it and just see it as “some weird country personification thing.”

The other countries, though? Most of them wouldn’t react like Italy, but at least Turkey would have his back—possibly annoyingly so, but he wouldn’t claim Hungary owed him any favors for pushing back at any insensitivity for him for a few weeks, at least.

Italy brought back the affogato, and Hungary sat up again as Italy went back to talking. He’d never been good at confrontation. Hungary knew he was just waiting for Hungary to be comfortable enough to volunteer what had happened between him and Czechia. He really didn’t feel like talking, though, and Italy was more than happy to fill the silence as Hungary finished his affogato, as they left the café and hailed a taxi, and as they travelled to some store, Italy promising he’d help with the cost, since he was choosing the store—he knew Hungary was too proud to let him pay for everything, especially since he’d already paid for their coffees and food.

“This place is open until midnight.” Italy checked his watch as they got out of the taxi. “We have about an hour. That should be enough time to get you a few things, right? What do you want to look at first?”

“Maybe some jeans and slacks,” Hungary said. “I can’t wear sweatpants the whole trip.”

“Okay!” Italy pulled Hungary towards the right direction, chatting excitedly as Hungary smiled.

Back at the hotel room, Czechia pushed her empty lava cake bowl aside and finished her now-cool tea.

Austria was finishing his tiramisu as he waited again, having kept to his promise to let Czechia talk.

She stabbed a strawberry spear with the small fork, speaking quieter than before as she started to feel tired again, emotionally spent. “Do you think they would forgive me?”

“Hmm...” Austria stacked his plates and set his empty cup on top. “As a general rule, Aliz is not particularly forgiving. If you were to ask them about our weimaraner, I am sure they would have… colorful words to say about my incompetence as a dog-owner, despite it happening when Franz Joseph was in power.”

Czechia managed a chuckle as she nibbled on the strawberry.

“However, Aliz isn’t one to storm out like they did.” Austria turned in his chair to face Czechia. “I’m guessing they said they were going out to smoke?”

Spearing another berry, Czechia nodded.

“They can be almost eager to fight when pushed into it.” Austria waited for Czechia to look at his face. “That they forced themselves to leave makes it evident they are very willing to come back, talk things out, and hopefully move on. Aliz acts tough and confident partly out of needing to protect himself. I’m sure you’ve noticed even before now that they don’t like to be emotionally vulnerable.”

Czechia had noticed and nodded.

“If they weren’t willing to forgive you and wanted to break things off, they would have stayed after first confronting you, would have shouted, would have reached for the knives that would have cut you most deeply, even if they would have regretted it later. Aliz had never been good at keeping their anger in check once it’s first unleashed, but in this instance, they took themselves out of the situation, intending to take some time to be alone, likely to calm down and think things over—or drink themselves into a stupor, which is why I sent Feliciano to babysit them.”

Czechia chuckled and ate a blackberry.

“Go wash up,” Austria told her, going to the coffee maker to help himself to it. “You look like you’ve been crying all night.”

Snorting, Czechia rolled her eyes, popped another blackberry into her mouth, and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and turning on the light. She frowned at her reflection. She had always been an ugly crier, her eyes swelling and turning red as blotches covered her pale face, but she didn’t want to admit Austria was right. At least by now, the red blotches had faded mostly, and she washed her face, first with her usual exfoliant and then a cleanser. When she sprayed her face with a toner, looking more alive, if having just woken up thanks to her tangled hair, there was knocking at the door.

“Just a moment,” Austria called out.

Czechia exited the bathroom, and Austria suggested she go to the arm chair by the window and wait.

She hesitated by the door but nodded, smelling brewing coffee as the Kureg spat coffee into the plain white mug. Czechia sat in the arm chair, pulling her knees to her chest as she waited for Austria to pick up the mug and open the door. He froze in mid-sip, but Czechia couldn’t see Hungary around him. She caught Italy’s eyes though and waved when he smiled at her.

“Not what I expected,” Austria said after a moment, and Czechia’s smile slipped as worry filled her.

Not what he expected? What had happened to Hungary? Had he done something?

“Doesn’t he look great?” Italy chirped, and Czechia pulled her legs closer to her body.

“Indeed,” said Austria. “We’ll leave you and Hedvika alone. Come on, Feliciano.”

The two men left, and Hungary was turned, his hood pulled far forward as he was turned, dropping a paper shopping bag into the closet. Something was different, but Czechia was too nervous to think about it or search for what that something was.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, and Hungary’s arms fell to his side as he stood up straight, still facing the closet. “I shouldn’t have said that, and me being angry or defensive isn’t an excuse.” Her eyes stung as she started crying again, staring at the carpet. “I just want to know, wish you’d opened up sooner. I know this makes it about me, but it feels bad that you were so scared, like you thought so little of me that I’d just up and leave soon as you came out. But I know it was a big thing, and it was a big decision for you to finally open up that I just took looking through your messages behind your back. I really can’t say this enough, but I’m so, so sorry.”

Finally, she looked up, jumping and her feet hitting the floor as she grasped the arm rests when Hungary finally faced her.

He pulled his hood down and pulled off a trans flag colored knitted hat covering his hair, which he’d put into a low ponytail.

Czechia could only stare at him, not realizing her mouth had fallen open.

Hungary’s face was still undeniably Hungary’s, but their face was a bit longer, jaw more squared, nose more pronounced and stubble covering his jaw and the lower portion of his cheeks. His chestnut brown hair was the same though, and so was his emerald eyes Czechia loved so much. She realized now that he was taller, and his shoulders were broader. He was wearing a button-up shirt instead of his hoodie under his jacket, the gold rose designs on the dark red fabric telling Czechia Italy had chosen it. It was tucked into his jeans in the front, showing off his waist sinching from his wide chest in what America might call a Dorito shape.

Pulling their hair out of its ponytail and running his fingers through the strands, Hungary drew in a breath, Adam’s apple bobbing before he finally spoke. “I know how some of my actions looked, and I knew you were worried I was cheating on you and  _ still _ didn’t say anything, because I was stupid and thought you thinking I was cheating seemed less scary than actually telling you what was going on in my head.”

His voice was a deep baritone, cracking in a few places as he tried to keep his composure.

“I know you love me,” Hungary continued, “but I worried that me telling you, possibly changing… you might feel I’m not  _ me _ anymore, the me you… loved….”

He trailed off, staring with glassy emerald eyes as Czechia stood and took his rough hands into her soft ones.

“You’re always you,” Czechia whispered, squeezing his hands as she looked up to meet his eyes. “You’re still kind, loving, strong. You still love to read and make lace collars and flowers. You still prefer watching cartoons over live-action movies and shows and learned how to read Japanese just so you can read your favorite manga soon as they get printed. You talk to cats the same way you talk to people, maybe even more comfortably.” She smiled as Hungary chuckled nervously. “When you stole those dogs from their abusive owners, I helped you hide and find new homes for them, no questions asked. I love  _ you _ , and I want…” Now Czechia started tearing up. “I want you to be happy, comfortable, and confident in how you look and feel in your body.”

Smiling and blinking back tears, Hungary squeezed Czechia’s hands, and she let out a squeal of delight as Hungary lifted her up so they were face-to-face as Hungary leaned in for a kiss. The kiss deepened, and they moved to the bed, making out and exploring Hungary’s new body, Czechia happy to find him receptive to her butterfly kisses over his square jaw and along his collarbone, her hands running over his biceps and pecs, her fingers running through hair and making him shiver as her hands slowly moved downward towards his waistband.

She smirked as he blushed hard, Czechia scooting up on his lap and grinding as Hungary gasped and shuttered, getting even harder.

“Is this something you’re ready for?” Czechia asked, feeling these past months of built-up tension slamming into her all at once and needing an outlet.

“I’ve been wishing for it for so long,” Hungary huffed, the gruffness of his voice making Czechia shutter, and she squealed again, then laughed as Hungary put her on her back on the bed and locked lips with her again as they straddled her, only breaking away to pull off her Tshirt.

“Really, I should have known when you started listening to Cavetown,” Czechia whispered as she shimmied out of her shorts with Hungary’s help.

Hungary laughed and undid the button of his jeans. “Yeah, probably.


End file.
